


Matchless

by StarCityRebels



Series: Matchless (Bat-fam Matches Malone Fics) [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Feels, Identity Porn, M/M, Prostitution Roleplay, Rimming, Roleplay, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 02:24:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7022764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarCityRebels/pseuds/StarCityRebels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman uses his underworld alter ego "Matches Malone" to get information from criminals. But this time Robin is using Matches Malone to get what HE wants: Bruce. </p><p>Identity porn, not-exactly-consensual role playing, very consensual dirty, angsty, first-time together sex in a bar bathroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Matchless

Matches had specifically told Robbie to take the night off. Tonight is supposed to be a simple: infiltration for information. Matches plans to keep his hands on his drink and his eyes on the backroom door to see if the rumors about this joint being a front for Penguin’s organization were true,or if it really is just the seedy club it's painted to be.

While he waits, he nurses a glass of cheap whisky. The club is almost too quiet to justify his presence. No card game, no action, just a handful of sad sacks drinking alone. Nothing to interest a real operator like Matches. Probably would’ve bored Robbie to death if the kid had come. Probably would have been a brat, started trouble, blown his cover. Matches is looking for information, not trouble. 

But a boy appears, seems to slip out of the shadows. 18 if he’s a day, dressed like a rent boy gone slumming on a slow night. The boy saunters over to the bar and slides right beside Matches. Matches doesn't think they've met before even though the few other faces in the joint are familiar. Old timers like Matches.

The boy’s face is as young and fresh as a daisy. But the rest of him? Fancy-looking tight black shirt unbuttoned down to his pierced navel. Shirt tucked in to cut-off jeans so short the white pockets stick out underneath the fraying bottom. They hardly count as shorts. They can only be worn if you're marketing what this boy is obviously selling. 

“Is he always this friendly?” Matches asks the bartender, gesturing to the kid who has squeezed in to half of Matches' seat and is now in the process of stealing his drink. The Bartender shrugs as the kid grabs a little red stirrer from the napkin holder and starts drinking Matches’ watery whisky on the rocks through it like it's a straw. 

“You should buy him his own. And then tip me,” the bartender deadpans. So Matches does, while the kid inches toward him on his seat, being anything but subtle.

“Look kid, enjoy the whisky but I ain't looking for company tonight,” Matches says as he surrenders the barstool to the kid. The kid is all lean muscle. One thigh is marked with a scar, too wide and purple to be from a razor. Probably from a knife. And the other thigh— Jesus fucking Christ, are those claw marks?! Must be from some kind of zoo animal?! What the fuck happened to this kid Matches wonders. He can't stop staring at those legs. Can't stop himself from imagining them wrapped around him.

The kid notices Matches eying his legs and smiles. “Are you sure you don't want company? Because you look like you're enjoying mine. And I haven't even said a word.” The kid’s voice is low and delighted, almost a purr.. He takes another sip of Matches’ whiskey, and he hooks his thumb into Matches belt loop, tugging him closer. 

Matches grabs the kid’s thumb to unhook it but the kid takes it as an opportunity to run his fingers down the back of Matches’ own scarred knuckles. 

“I like your hands,” the kid tells him. “I can tell you know how to handle yourself.” He lays Matches’ hand on his scarred, naked thigh. 

“What about you?” Matches asks, stroking his thumb over one of the kid’s scars. “You doing much of a job taking care of yourself? Because that looks like it hurt pretty bad.” Matches is aiming for sarcasm but he misses it by a mile.

The kid rolls his eyes like it's the dumbest question in the world. “You should see the other guy.”  
Matches forces himself to move his hand away. He shouldn't be touching a rent boy in the middle of a bar. He shouldn't be touching this boy, period.

There are things Matches prefers to keep private. He flirts with the working girls but never actually goes with them. He jokes that he doesn’t need to pay for company. Or sometimes he tells them his old lady is in lock-up and he promised her he'd wait. The girls love hearing that one: Matches the romantic. 

Matches figures no one is expecting him to do more than humor the kid. But he worries that if the kid keeps this act up Matches will forget the word “no”. Matches doesn’t want to lose control. Matches never loses control, he reminds himself as he visibly backs away. 

The kid spins around his stool, looks at Matches face to face. His eyes are vivid blue, so beautiful it hurts to look at them. It hurts even more when the boy says, “if my scars are too much for you to stand—I’ll understand.” The kid sounds so young when he puts it like that. Like he’s forgotten he’s supposed to be flirting for a moment and genuinely can’t tell what Matches thinks of him. 

Matches has never seen anything as beautiful. He moves without meaning to, cupping the kid’s face, because only a monster would hurt this kid, and only a monster wouldn't tell him he's beautiful. Or handsome. Or whatever the fuck teenage rent boys want to be.

Matches runs his thumb over the kid’s cheek, brushing the light stubble above his upper lip. The kid tilts his head back and sucks Matches thumb into his mouth, staring at him with hungry eyes. 

Matches should never have let it go this far. He should be watching the door, he should be leaving. He certainly shouldn’t be getting hard...

“Kid…” Matches chokes out. His mouth gone completely dry. 

“Yeah, big guy?” the kid asks, smiling up at him with bright eyes. 

“Kid, I got business here right now.”

“With Mister Cobblepot? He’ll be back in an hour. He's on a regular schedule. We’ve got a whoooole hour to kill. You could buy me another drink," and he hiccups, “but you should probably just buy me.” He wets his lips and reaches for Matches’ belt loops again, hooks him, reels him in and looks up at him through his lashes, biting his pouty lower lip. 

Matches is between the kid’s spread legs now. Lean, naked legs against cheep polyester slacks. It stirs something deep that he’d rather keep tamped down. He knows a thousand ways to pry the kid off, but none of them makes sense anymore when the the kid leans in close and whispers “come on boss...get with me, before these other slobs do” and reaches up to him with one arm, pulling him in for a kiss. 

Matches is lost. He tries to justify it to himself thinking what else is he gonna do while he waits. But in truth, who could possibly say no to a boy with those perfect scarred legs, those painfully blue eyes. 

The kid’s lips feel a bit like a girl’s till his stubble pricks at just the right angle. Matches opens his mouth to the kid’s tongue. The kid is sighing in to him. He tastes like whisky and youth. The fingers that were hooked through Matches’ belt loops are now roaming across his ass. The kid is moaning against Matches’ lips as Matches runs his hands up the kid’s bare thighs.

He can feel the boy’s legs shifting, short shorts riding up as he squirms in his seat. Out of the corner of his eye he realizes he can see the pink tip of the kid’s surprisingly long cock peeking out through the rucked-up leg opening of his obscene shorts. Matches can’t stop looking at it exposed between the frayed denim and his bare thigh. He doesn’t know where to put his hands; adjust the kid's shorts back over his prick? Or just straight up fondle him then and there.

The kid clearly noticed and now he’s watching Matches eyeing his prick. The kid moves to chuckle against Matches’ face. Matches licks at the kid’s neck and rocks the kid back on the seat holding his ass in his hands. The kid’s cockhead moves out of sight now, starting to get hard. The kid adjusts himself where his shorts must be pinching him tight. His cock forming a ridge beside his fly. Matches can see him all too clearly now. Long and thick, a man’s cock between a teenager’s legs.

The kid grabs Matches’ hand and presses it against his cock through the shorts. The kid grinds against Matches’ hand and he feels everything through the poorly fitting fabric: tight balls, throbbing cock. The kid moves Matches hand down farther, into the too wide opening of his shorts. Matches feels him underneath his shorts now, rolling the kid’s balls and hoping the other guys aren’t watching them closely enough to really know what’s happening. 

Matches finger reaches the tip of the kid’s trapped cock. Christ, the kid is leaking pre-come already, just from having Matches’ hand on him. Matches sucks the kid’s tongue into his mouth and groans. He can't take it. He's too turned on to stop even though he knows he needs to. 

Then the kid is grasping at Matches through his stiff trousers. Pawing at his crotch. The kid speaks under his breath “let's go to the bathroom, if you make me come right here I’ll get in trouble” and Matches nods. It’s suddenly the easiest thing in the world. 

The kid bounds up from his stool and adjusts his shorts again. Matches thanks the god he doesn't believe in for how dark the club is. The kid seemed not to care about putting on a show but Matches doesn’t want the whole bar to see him walking awkwardly with a stiffy. 

Matches walks in front as the boy follows close behind. He holds open the door for him and when they are inside Matches drags him into the first open stall, past some guy probably shooting up in the one next door. The boy starts undoing Matches’ belt, breathing heavily. Matches runs his fingers through the boy’s black hair. It’s slicked up like a greaser’s but Matches can tell how soft it must be underneath.

The boy drops to his knees and takes Matches’ dick out, his eyes wide and wild. Matches is hard enough to hammer nails, or given his size, railway spikes. 

“This what you were looking for?” Matches taunts. “Still hungry for it?” Because yeah, while the kid may be big, Matches is bigger. 

The kid nods and smiles and then kisses the tip of Matches’ cock. He laps around the head, teasing the slit and making Matches gasp. 

It’s just reflexes working when Matches grabs the kid’s hair and pushes his head down a little. The kid opens his mouth and sucks him all the way down like the pro he clearly is. Like he was born to do this. The boy’s throat flutters as he gags a little, but he won't let off. He sucks, hollowing his cheeks. Looks up at Matches through dark lashes, long as a girl’s and Matches groans and curses.

“Goddamn whore. This is whatcha wanted, isn't it? You wanted to choke on my cock?” Matches barks. The boy nods. He's pinching one of his own nipples, so Matches pulls the kid’s shirt all the way open and pinches the other. The kid shivers and then leans forward to suck again. 

Matches strips the kid’s shirt off and runs his hands across the boy’s shoulders feeling how impressive the boy’s muscles are. He’s seriously cut for someone of his age. Kid’s gotta be 18 to be built like that. “Daaaamn,” Matches groans, impressed. The kid must lift weights. Has to. Maybe he's on Varsity Swim? Maybe this is how the kid pays for school-- on his knees. It hardly matters. It hardly matters because his tongue, his lips, his fluttering throat are everything now as the kid takes him deeper.

Matches feels like his life is getting pulled out of him. Through his cock. Like the kid is sucking the air out of him. He feels like he’s drowning but the kid is the one who’s barely coming up for air. 

The boy pulls off. Looks up at him red faced from effort and asks, “do you want me to get you off like this? Or do you want to fuck me? It's twice as much but everyone says it's worth it.” The boy’s voice sounds scratchy now. Rough from Matches’ cock.

“Let me see your ass,” Matches demands. The boy stands up, shimmies out of his tiny shorts, that had hardly hid anything in the first place. Matches barely gets a glimpse at the kid’s big cock before the boy bends all the way over, flexible as an acrobat with his ass in the air. 

His ass is muscular but with enough padding to shake a little. Matches grips it, spreading his cheeks. It’s the sweetest ass Matches has seen on any man or woman. He feels the need to paw at it hard, mark it up, test it’s limits.

“Do you like it like this?” Matches asks. “Do you want to come with my fat cock in your little ass?” 

“Yes,” the boy chokes out. “Love swallowing your cock but I need it in my ass,” the kid says, flexing. Matches takes a step back to check his pockets realising he didn’t bring any rubbers with him because this--- this was not the plan for his evening.

The kid straightens up a bit and looks back at him over his shoulder. “Please,” he begs and runs a spit slicked finger over his own hole. Like Matches ever had a choice. Of course he’s going to give it to him.

“Tell me you’ve got lube and rubbers because I didn't go out expecting company tonight,” Matches growls.

“I always do. I'm professional that way.” The boy practically bounces upright, smiling proudly at Matches as he pulls packets out of his shirt pocket. The kid is so eager, almost innocent. No way has he been at this game long, no matter what he tries to imply and no matter how good he is at sucking cock.

The kid puts the packets in Matches hands and bends over again.

“Don’t trust another man with that stuff kid. You gotta put the rubber on the john yourself, alright? Some bastard could take advantage of you if you don’t,” Matches grumbles. The kid is silent now, bending over, flexible as a dancer. His hands are trembling like he wants to touch his own cock right now-- but he won’t do it. Because he’s waiting for Matches. God it’s gorgeous. 

“Fuck it!” Matches says. “Fuck it, I’m going to hell anyway,” and he leans over and licks the kid’s hole. The kid gasps, high pitched and desperate, and Matches chuckles as he laps at the kid’s clean crack. The kid practically croons as Matches moves his free hand to wrap around the Kid’s long, hard cock.

“Any john ever do this to you before?” Matches asks in between licks. The kid just moans in answer. Matches starts to tease at the kid’s cock again with his right hand, squeezing it too tight and shoves his tongue inside the kid’s trembling hole. 

The kid is wavering between relaxing and almost squealing moment by moment. One second he’s giggling and clenching, the next he’s panting and opening up, the next he’s groaning and trying to push Matches’ tongue as deep inside him as he can inside and then he’s giggling and clenching all over again. 

Matches is pretty sure he guessed right and getting a rim job was new territory for the kid-- from a john or otherwise. Matches knows why the kid’s never been rimmed before. It's not the first place you'd think to shove your tongue. And kids are idiots. But Matches doesn't have hang ups or at least not that hang up. Plus it serves his twin purposes of loosening the kid up for later and making the kid lose it.

In fact it's not long before the kid warns him, panting, “Matches? Matches I’m going come.” 

“So come then,” Matches replies self-satisfied and smug, “I can still fuck you after…”

Matches loosens his hold on the kid’s cock and strokes him a few times, wet tip to root and with a deep jab of Matches’ tongue the kid loses it. He tries to muffle his own shout against his arm as he comes in Matches’ hand, so much that Matches can’t catch it all so it drips to the floor and splatters his legs. Matches just keeps rubbing the Kid’s cock, now wet and sloppy with come, as he finishes, still panting and moaning. 

The kid grabs Matches’ hand to still it as he stands back up. He turns to face Matches, pupils dilated, face flushed. He takes Matches’ come slicked hand and licks his own jizz off of it, sucking each finger and then tonguing between them, never breaking eye contact. Never looking away. Matches adjusts himself, restless. Still hard as a tire-iron of course. 

“Look at you,” smirks Matches “still hungry for it, huh? Greedy little slut.”

The kid nods. He seems dazed but still aroused and hungry. Good. Matches has something to give him.

“Okay then, come here” says Matches as he pushes his tongue into the kid’s mouth. The kid really throws himself into the kiss. They kiss rough and raw and the kid moves his now wet hand down to Matches cock to stroke it. 

“Still hard for your ass, kid,” Matches tells him. “Still buying it. Got you all relaxed now so you can take me without hurting yourself. Don’t want you breaking yourself on this big dick. I’ve got a conscience. “ Matches smiles wickedly. 

“Yeah, I think it’s 10 inches,” the boy says caressing Matches’ cock, almost worshipful . 

“Sure, a 10 inch conscience,” Matches snorts, impressed with the kid’s ability to size him up. “I want to watch you get yourself ready.”

The boy folds himself in half again. He squirts some slick on his fingers and slides one in his hole, which is still wet from Matches’ tongue. He did start to loosen him up so the kid quickly upgrades to two fingers, then scissors them. 

While he’s watching him work, Matches squeezes his own balls absentmindedly. He drags his giant dick across the top of the boy’s perfect round ass. He knows when he jerks off tomorrow he’ll be thinking about shoving it in raw. But even Matches isn’t that big of a sleaze. The kid deserves better.

Matches takes the lube from the kid’s other hand and wets his fingers, his cock and then the rubber. As much as he hates putting on the rubber he can’t wait to get inside the kid. He’s held back for what feels like a lifetime. And now the kid is right here, fingering himself open for him. It’s almost too good, and he can’t make it soon enough. The kid wants it so bad too. 

“Here,” Matches says and shoves a big, hard, finger in besides the two the boy currently has in his ass. The boy grunts and pulls his own fingers out as Matches crooks his index finger against the boy’s prostate, pushing and rubbing. Then a second finger. 

The boy moans as Matches drums a rhythm inside him.

He should give the kid more of a warning before sliding his cock in. But Matches can’t hold off any longer. By now all the blood in his body has rushed to his dick. Speech is too hard. Everything is too hard except giving in to this teenager who's simply begging for it. But with Matches, it’s always just for Matches.

And deep down one of Matches’ inner demons figures if the kid is the pro he claims to be he should be used to it, ready for it. 

He pulls his fingers out and lines up his cock without missing a beat. The kid’s hot and slick and once his head is through the tight opening he starts to slide in without much resistance. He’s about halfway in when the kid jerks forward and clenches around him, painfully good.

“Too much for you sweetheart?” Matches taunts. He rubs a calloused hand tenderly across the kid’s hipbone, belying the harshness he's struggling to maintain in his voice.

“Never,” the kid grits back and spears himself on Matches’ dick, making Matches grunt from the force of it. The kid bites down a yelp and pauses as soon as he bottoms out. He’s panting and waiting. The kid manages to slip a finger at the juncture of Matches’ cock and his stretching hole, like he’s checking to see if he really took it all-- and yes, yes he did. The kid breathes out the word “yeah,” seemingly at the thought of it. He feels the kid relax a little 

A few moments later the kid starts rolling his hips back against Matches in earnest and moans “do me.” Matches takes it as an invitation to go hard. As hard as he's ever wanted. Slams against the Kid’s ass so hard it sounds like he’s spanking him. Grips his hips hard enough to leave handprints. But the boy keeps going. Keeps taking him. Moaning like it feels good-- like this fuck is for him too and not just for Matches. 

The kid jerks himself loosely, like he doesn't want to come too fast. When Matches shoves the Kid’s hand away the kid moans in frustration but doesn't resist. The kid twists his neck, looking back at him, eyes as big as saucers and lips quivering. 

Matches runs his finger down the underside of the Kid’s slick prick. When Matches repositions to nudge his cockhead against the kid’s prostate the kid gasps “oh, god” and Matches feels more pre-cum trickle from his slit. “You may be hung like a man but your cock is so wet-- like a kid having his first wet dream.”

“Maybe you're just my big wet dream then,” the kid retorts. 

“When you can't sit straight tomorrow, you’ll remember this ain't no dream.” Matches slams deep in again then runs a finger, wet with pre-come, around the Kid’s stretched rim. He’s so pink now. So tender.

“Don’t wanna sit straight. Just want to sit on your cock. Don't wanna do anything straight,” the kid gasps “you feel so good. Don’t stop. Never stop. This is what we were born to do.”

Christ, Matches can't take it. Can’t hear the kid saying shit like that. So he shuts him up by shoving his sloppy fingers into the kid’s mouth. The kid wasn’t expecting that and gags for a moment. That feels almost too cruel so Matches pulls his fingers out and places his hand over the kid's mouth instead. He never stops fucking him relentlessly. 

Then Matches starts to feel his balls pull tight. Knows he can't hold off much longer. The way the kid is clenching around him he knows the kid's going to come again at any moment. Matches rolls the kid's balls in his free hand. 

The kid’s mouth is still covered by Matches' hand but his grip across the kid’s mouth is relaxed. He feels the kid's lips move. The kid mouths “I love you” against his palm and that's it. Matches is coming in the kid’s ass like he hasn’t come before, like it’s being ripped out of him, and he’s loud. He knows he’s loud. And now the kid is coming, untouched, on top of the splatter of his come already on the stall floor. 

Matches wants to tell him “don't say shit like that. I can't hear shit like that,” but saying that aloud would mean acknowledging he caught the message. It's easier for Matches to pretend he didn't. For both their sakes.

When Matches pulls out he can barely hear the boy muttering “ouch, ouch, ouch” under his breath. Matches ties off the condom and dumps it in the toilet. 

The kid is still crouching over, his hands resting on his knees, collapsed against himself and gasping like he finished a marathon.

Matches rests a hand against the Kid’s upper back, moves him upright to steady him. The kid leans back against Matches chest, slowing his breathing. The kid reaches around to touch his hole, checking himself and then turning around carefully to face him. They're both still red in the face. 

Matches looks him up and down discretely. The fresh bruises on his skin. The glistening, damp, lithe muscles of his chest. Those beautiful scarred legs. The stupid shorts are still on the ground, too close to the pool of come. Matches looks at the boy's long and slowly softening cock. He's big. He’s obscene. Maybe one day he’ll be bigger. Matches heart flutters and he can't... he can't deal. Especially not with the boy’s totally open and readable face. The boy is too soft. Too young. Too familiar, even naked and splattered in come.

Matches presses the boy up against the side of the stall, bracing him between his big hands, a knee shoved against his side.

“Listen kid, you could give a dead man a hard-on, you’re great with your mouth, you know how to take cock. But you don’t know a goddamned thing about tricking for pay.” Matches reaches into his wallet, literally empties it into the kid’s hand. It’s got to be $1,000 dollars. Kid doesn’t even look to count it, just puts the empty wallet back in his shirt pocket, never breaking eye contact. 

“Take the money. Don’t let me see you here again. Go back to your family --”

“I’m an orphan.” the kid interjects.

Of course… Of course he is. 

“Fine then, go back to your school. Go anywhere. You keep trying to trick you’re going to wind up hurt. Men like me? We’re going to eat you up. Break you.”

“You don’t know what I need,” the kid whispers. “You think you know. But you’re dense as lead.” The kid moves his hips forward, starts to grind against him. 

“Fine. Get hurt. Throw it away. You want to see the other side?” Matches growls and then he bites the kid’s neck. Hard. Hard enough to taste blood. Christ, what is he doing? What does this kid do to him? Breaks his self control. Makes him reveal himself. A monster. Underneath his cool facade he is a monster who eats children. 

He can hear the boy stifle a shout. Then the boy is panting and rubbing his goddamn hard-on against Matches’ leg. This is sick. He’s sick. They are broken.

The bathroom door swings open. “Hey, Matches. Mister Cobblepot is back. Wants to speak to you,” a familiar gruff voice hollers into the bathroom. 

“Yeah, gimme a sec. I’ll be right there.” Matches pulls off to reply.

The boy looks up at him. Starry-eyed, almost swooning. Matches lifts the kid’s chin and shuts his mouth for him. The boy puts on a tough face then realizes that Matches had been getting hard again too. 

The kid smirks “You better see Mister Cobblepot now.” Fucking smart ass. 

“You better get that looked at,” Matches replies, nodding to the wound on the kid’s neck. 

Matches leaves the bathroom, returns to the main room and swaggers to Cobblepot’s office. He feels sick to his stomach. He glances over his shoulder. Sees the kid smoking a cig and checking his cellphone. Matches raps on Cobblepot’s door. Glances back to look for the Kid again, watches him sashay out of the club, hankie pressed against his neck. Smiling.

“Good evening, Matches. And what is it you’re looking for tonight?” asks Cobblepot in his ridiculous voice. 

“What’s any guy looking for?” Matches replies. “Action.”

\-----

_Dying to know what happens next between Bruce and Dick?[Well, here's Matchless part II](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9268379)_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the brilliant [Sapphy Watches You Sleep](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphy/works) for the essential and insightful beta read.


End file.
